Flesh and Soul
by joelcoxriley
Summary: They say family is made out of bonds of blood, not spilled blood. How far would you go to aid a sibling bound in blood?


**Hello! This story is base exactly on dream I had, and is rather disturbing. It is in Mathieu Bellamont's point of view, and only briefly switches. Read at your own risk! Contains disturbing scenes, violence and hinted rape. I tried first person, cause I suck at first person. I hope this is good.**

* * *

"Are you alright, Sister?" I asked, noticing that my beloved's hauntingly beautiful face had become increasingly pale-even for one plagued with vampirism. Indeed, Shealyne's once snow white hue had turned pasty, as if she were a corpse beginning to decompose. Her lips were drained of color and chapped, and her normally blood red eyes that had once contrasted with her pale skin like thick warm blood upon a pure maiden's dress were now half shut and glazed.

"I am fine." Shealyne spoke, though I knew her better. My Sister was not fine.

"You lie." I stated softly, my eyes drifting to my Sister's wounded side, the color of deep red staining her black robe. I could not stop my fists from shaking in rage, feeling my own nails dig into my flesh. The contract that had been simple had gone terribly wrong. Though we had managed to send the unfortunate fool's soul into Sithis' unholy grasp, my Sister and I did not come out of the fight unscathed.

It was I that had become so ambitious that I could not see the danger before me. I thought nothing could go wrong. I thought that no fool would dare stand before us. After all, who would be so vain and foolish enough to try to deter the shadow of death when one cannot escape? Little did I know, this target would. More the fool I, no?

"A storm is coming." Shealyne commented, evading the subject as I looked up to the sky.

"So it seems." I muttered, the clouds various shades of gray, as if bruised. How fitting.

"I should have slit his throat faster." I hissed, feeling the rain begin to fall softly. Good. If we were lucky, the rain laden earth would wash away any sign of our presence.

"You did. He bled fast, Brother." Shealyne muttered, her face contesting in silent discomfort and pain.

"Not fast enough." I muttered darkly, remembering how my blade had severed tendon, sinew, and bone. I remembered how the blood erupted from the man's artery like an enraged volcano breaching the earth's crust. Indeed, the man was a fast bleeder. But he didn't bleed fast enough. I didn't cut hard or fast enough before his torn jugular could sever his last breath in one struggled gasp. The blood bubbled. And bubbled, bubbled as the target still drew breath. The jagged, broken edge of my blade reaped the life from the man among its cold steeled fangs. Like Death itself. Cold. Lifeless. Unfeeling. Merciless. Yet even with my jagged blade slitting his throat, he didn't bleed fast enough.

I was awoken from my brooding upon hearing a soft gasp from my Sister next to me as she stumbled and fell.

"You are not alright." I stated, kneeling down to her fallen level. Shealyne refused to speak for she knew I was right.

"We can't keep this up. I can't keep this up." Shealyne spoke, her voice quavering with a hidden terror. Her eyes, however, spoke the truth.

"It will not come to that." I stated, hoisting Shealyne up. Her footing was unsteady as she clenched onto my shoulder, jaw slacked and hair plastered to her gaunt face.

"You speak like it is true." Shealyne muttered, the woman gasping as I grabbed her shoulders-and knowing my violent temper, roughly-and forced her to look at me.

"Shealyne." I hissed, the woman refusing to look at me out of fear. I hated when she did that. I hated when she feared me when she knew I would never harm her.

"Look at me." I ordered firmly, my Sister hesitantly looking into my eyes, her beautiful red iris quivering in terror like disturbed, tainted water.

"I..." I broke off, suddenly unsure of what to say as I pierced my lips together.

"I will not allow that to happen. Do you understand?" I asked, speaking to Shealyne like a child. I was unsure if she could fully comprehend in her current state.

"Yes..." Shealyne whispered softly, causing me to loosen my grip.

"We will be fine." I muttered again, resisting the growing urge to claim her as mine once more as I allowed my hands to fall to my side.

"Come, Sister dearest. I would like to get out of this rain." I ordered, feeling my mood go south as the rain began to pour.

* * *

"Sithis damn this forsaken region!" I hissed in annoyance, the rain now heavily pouring as dull thunder roared in the distance.

"Your cursing doesn't solve anything." Shealyne snapped, my eyes rolling in annoyance before narrowing at the earthen ground before us. This place truly did seem forsaken. Even the grass was dead.

Shealyne and I remained quiet for several minutes, our boots getting stuck in the thick mud from time to time as our robes clung to our bodies, making our movements uncomfortable. The air was thick with an earthen scent, and even though the rain was cool, warm mist rose from the very ground as a result from the hot sun earlier in the day.

In time, the heavy rain died down to a light drizzle, the water that would act as sustenance to a growing seed in it's womb becoming wasted on the land. This area, in my observations, appeared infertile, for as soon as the water became trapped in the burrowed ground, the very surface cracked.

Shealyne had stumbled and fallen on the parched ground several times, the dust and drying mud staining her knees. It worried, and rightfully frustrated me that I could do nothing but watch her health deteriorate, fade into nothing like ashes just birthed from a fire. If worse came to worse, however, I could always carry her.

"How are you?" I asked once more, Shealyne's footing unsteady as she paused in her walking to catch her breath. It was obvious that the wound on her side was causing her pain.

"I'm fine, Mathieu. I'm fine." Shealyne spoke softly, nodding as if to confirm.

I paused in my stride to allow my Sister catch up, the woman adjusting her robe so it wouldn't stick to her reaping wound.

"This place is miserable, isn't it?" Shealyne asked, laughing gently in an attempt to change the mood. Quite frankly, she and I were both miserable by our unfortunate events.

"Agreed. I find this place a bit depressing. The land itself appears dead." I mused. It was strange. This land, while appearing dead and dry, was surrounded by forests and meadows in the distance. If I had to guess, these lush landscapes were only a few miles off.

We began to notice a building in the distance, and unsure what to make of it, moved slowly towards the building. We couldn't afford to get into a fight if bandits occupied the house.

Getting closer, my Sister and I developed mixed feelings about this house. It was in extremely poor conduction, and falling apart despite it's rather large size of being two stories. I also saw that the wooden sidings of the house were covered with mold and neglect. The windows were cracked and broken, exposing old and torn curtains which were faded in color. The tapestries gently glided in the wind, as if a spirit were moving them to and fro in an attempt to get them to settle just right. The roof seemed to have partly caved in on itself. The door to the house was splintered and bent, the hinges rusty and crooked.

I involuntarily shivered as I heard the wind moan through the house, as if the building itself was breathing. Shealyne appeared unnerved as well, for she approached me as if she were readying for a fight. I could hear her soft breathing as her eyes scanned the house, as if expecting the building to swallow her whole.

"Do...do you think someone is there?" Shealyne asked softly, both of us on edge.

"It seems abandoned." I noted, briefly glancing at woodwork next to the house. However, seeing the framework for a new building made my hackles rise. The bones of a second house-possibly an add on, but I have no idea why one would build an add on while leaving the main home in such poor conditions- were in good condition compared to the ruined house. It didn't set well with me. But in the end, it was the only form of shelter from the weather, and with night approaching in a few hours, I wasn't too keen on stumbling around in the shadows. Shealyne may have been able to see in the dark, but I could not. The scent of her blood could also attract predators.

"Stay back. I'll go scout, see if anyone is inside." I spoke, Shealyne looking at me with slight concern.

"Are you sure? I can still defend myself." Shealyne asked, and I knew by the tone in her voice that she didn't want me to go alone. Hahaha! Such a sweet thing she is! Her worry amused me slightly, but it provoked a fire within me, a fire that would burn and sear anything that threatened my dear Sister.

"That is not needed, Sister dear. You have shed enough of your blood for our Dread Father." I spoke, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth upon seeing Shealyne's lips pierce together into a slight frown.

"I...yes, Brother. Here, take this." Shealyne spoke, and I heard her sleek blade become unsheathed as she held it for me to take.

Wordlessly, I wrapped my fingers around the blade's handle, my fingers lightly touching hers as I briefly examined the dagger before nodding in thanks.

"Be careful, Mathieu." Shealyne pleaded, red eyes showing her worry as I resisted the urge to make some form of physical contact with her.

"I will, Shealyne. Don't worry." I reassured her, and barely stopped myself from leaning into kiss her. I barely even knew I was performing the action. How professional.

Recovering, I smiled softly and nodded once more before turning towards the house. I cautiously approached the croft, my senses increasing. Even if they knew I was approaching, they would never have heard me, and their throats would be slit before they could even draw their weapons.

I ducked under the siding of the wooden croft and pressed myself flat against the wall, a broken window just next to me. I paused, and stilled my breathing as I focused on any kind of noise within the house. Any breath, any gasp, whisper, shout, footstep. I would have heard it. I heard nothing but the breathing of that damned house.

Clutching the blade in my hand, my grip tightened as the gloves groaned against each other in protest. I was sure my knuckles were white. They had to be. I always clutched my blade in a death grip when I steeled myself for a kill. Hard and fast. Hard and fast. They would never see me coming before it was too late, and their blood would be drained on the floor, the life blood pumping out like a dying fountain.

Peeking inside the window, I quickly scanned the inside of the house. The dump was worse than mine, and seemed to be in even worse condition inside. I saw that the house wasn't bare, and was decorated with ruined, paint chipped chairs surrounding a single grime infested table. The thing that disturbed me most, however, was the presence of dead dogs on the floor. They appeared to be in only a few weeks of decay, but seemed to have been stripped of their skin, revealing flesh and bone, dried blood pooling around them. From the short distance I could see the flesh squirm from glow flies burrowing underneath. The scent of decay was rank in the air, and the wind that blew gently from the window was hot and suffocating. I saw the floor, and noticed matted balls of fur and flesh, along with bloodied eating utensils and smashed plates and bowls littering the rotting wood. It was then that I realized the dirt on the table wasn't grime. It was blood.

Pulling back, I silently leaned against the wall, my eyes looking for Shealyne to find the woman a good distance away. I could practically feel her body tense, awaiting a sign from me, or possibly a sudden shout or war cry from a marauder that would suddenly burst through the rotting door, axe in hand.

I motioned for her to remain there, Shealyne nodding in response. I couldn't afford to allow my Sister to walk into such danger. While the house seemed abandoned, these dogs were killed by someone. I could only imagine that it would be for their flesh.

Silently, I moved towards the door and pressed myself against the wall once more, listening. I still heard nothing but the soft moans of the wind. Clutching Shealyne's blade, my other hand rested on the wooden door. I could feel the softness in the wood, and smell of mildew hit my nostrils.

Pushing gently on the door as to not make the rusted hinges creak, I grunted softly as the door refused to budge. Cursing inwardly to myself, I applied more pressure, but backed off as I felt the damp wood bend under my weight.

Sighing, I reeled back and kicked my boot at the rusted hinges, the door almost completely breaking in half as some of the hinges fell off and the soft wood snapped. The door flew inward, and was open at an awkward angle. It may not have been stealthy, but at least I got the damn door open.

Readying Shealyne's dagger, I stepped through the precipice. Moving inside, my eyes began to water at the rank presence of death, several flies buzzing around the room and feeding on the meat. I couldn't help but cough as I covered my mouth. Normally this wasn't a problem for me. I was used to every stage of death and decay, but this...I was unphased emotionally and mentally, but physically...it made me gag. It actually made me gag!

Coughing, and eyes watering, I backed out towards the door, becoming startled at I hit something. Swiftly turning around, Shealyne's blade was pressed again the flesh of a soft neck. Against my Sister's neck.

"Shea...Shealyne? I told you to stay outside!" I hissed, my breathing suddenly increasing before slowing as I released a deep sigh and lowered the blade. Shealyne stood, pale and wide eyed before releasing a shaky sigh in relief. She continued to look at me, eyes showing...terror? Uncertainty? Why? She knows-knows-that I would never harm her! Why does she act like I would hurt her? I began to feel a deep rage boil in the pit of my stomach, but before it could be released, I recognized the look in her eyes. She was concerned for me.

"I-I know. But I was worried about you." Shealyne spoke, her red eyes shining, as if they held millions of stars. She still watched me. Her body tense. It was no doubt that she could sense my rage. Slowly, my Sister became more lax as my anger began to smolder.

"Are you okay, Mathieu? I heard you hacking..." Shealyne broke off, her nostrils flaring slightly. I guess that she picked up the scent of the dead dogs. Or maybe the mildew? If she liked it now, wait till she stepped inside...

"I found...dead dogs inside, skinned and covered with flies and maggots. The house also has mold." I stated almost flatly, Shealyne craning her neck to look passed me.

"And I kicked the door down too. The hinges were too rusted to properly open them." I added like she cared, Shealyne looking at the oddly open and half broken door.

"You certainly gave it more charm. I take it no one is home?" Shealyne asked me, spying the dead dogs through the door as she frowned.

"If they are, then they are deaf." I mused slightly. While I may not have been able to scout out the whole house, the sound of the door being kicked open surely would have alerted someone to an intruder.

"Ohh, those poor dogs..." Shealyne frowned, watching me walk through the door once more into the house. Hesitantly, my Sister followed inside, and immediately covered her mouth and started coughing.

"By Sithis! The air is...so foul! How-how can you stand it?" Shealyne asked me, her eyes beginning to water as she started to gag, as if she were about to vomit.

"I got used to it, I guess." I replied. Really, it wasn't as bad as the first time I walked through that door. The air still stank, but at least it was bearable. The only thing you had to worry about was choking on a fly.

Really, the farmhouse looked much bigger on the outside than on the inside. Listening to my Sister gag-I being unsuccessful at blocking out the noise as she most likely vomited-I realized that this room was most likely a living room. It was small, but still a decent size. Towards the back, I saw another room in a more darkened area just down a tiny hallway that could only have one person go through at a time. If I had to guess, it was a storage room or maybe a kitchen. It didn't look very big from what I could see. Just before the hallway leading to the back room and to the left of the living room was a staircase. I didn't trust the foundation of this croft. The whole place looked like it was ready to fall down.

"This place is disgusting." Shealyne stated, wiping away the vomit that trickled down her chin. I grunted in response as a fly occasionally smacked my forehead. Stupid creatures. Why do they have to fly into everything?

Save for Shealyne's moaning, I could only hear the constant buzzing of the flies splitting the air. It was annoying, and I found myself swatting at them several times.

"Mathieu, was someone eating these dogs?" I turned as Shealyne asked me, the woman examining the table as she shifted in pain.

"I-" I went to speak only to be interrupted by Shealyne as she released a startled gasp, her delicate hand shooting up over her mouth. Following her gaze, I was unsettled to find a thin, old man sitting in a dully lit corner on an old wooden chair. Unmoving. Unblinking. Just staring at us, or rather, past us.

How the hell could I have missed an old man sitting in a damn corner? Surely Shealyne would have noticed as well. Was he always there? Did he just walk in and sit down while my Sister had distracted me?

"H-How long was he there?" Shealyne asked, voice unnerved as she shakily glanced towards me.

"I don't know." I answered softly, out of the man's ear shot as Shealyne moved behind me, ignoring the flies that seemed to be targeting her open wound.

I dared not take my eyes off the man. For a second, I wondered if he even drew breath. But based on his slow and raspy breathing, I knew he was alive, if only on his last legs.

The man was truly horrendous to look at. His hair was grey and matted, the man having bald patches all over his scalp, as if he were the one pulling out his own hair. His face, while thin and sullen, was scarred and twisted, lips uneven that covered rotten and missing teeth. His eyes were a dull grey, and his pupils mimicked when one stared into death. The man had a large, bird like nose that reminded me of an eagle's beak. Sharp and pointed. His jaw appeared to be shrunken in, most likely from his lack of teeth, I'm guessing. Besides the man's bird like features, he appeared...skeletal. Weak and frail, very boney.

Suddenly, the man's head turned almost unnaturally toward us, jerky yet smooth, like a hawk sighting in on it's prey. Shealyne jumped, startled as I readied her blade. Several seconds passed, yet the man made no move nor sound.

"Excuse me, sir? Is...this your house? Do you live here?" Shealyne asked, her voice shaking slightly, though I couldn't tell if her voice faltered so out of fear, or from her wound causing her pain.

The man made no response for several seconds before his face cracked into a crooked smile, as if it was not meant for his face. It exposed the man's rotten teeth, and there were multiple gaps from his missing ones. His nose appeared to cover up most of his face when you looked at him head on. An ugly one, this man. The man may have grinned in my direction, but his eyes-the eyes that looked upon death in an endless stare-they didn't look at me. They looked at my beloved.

"Oh! Visitors! Come in, come in!" The old man suddenly spoke, his voice soft and meek with age. Shealyne and I looked at each other, unsure.

"Do...you live here?" Shealyne once more, hesitant as the man released a great heave as he got up. The man's shoulder were slumped so forward it looked painful, his back completely arched forward, neck and head hanging low.

"Yes. Oh, I get so lonely here." The man spoke, hobbling toward us, a heavy thump and occasional dragging noise being produced as he walked. It was then I saw that his left leg...well, it was a stump. And it appeared to have a crude piece of metal somehow attached to his leg underneath his trousers. It sounded heavy.

"Oh, my..." Shealyne whispered to me, out of earshot of the approaching man. The man paused just before us, and I could smell his reeking breath as I positioned myself between him and my Sister.

The man then raised a bony hand, his nails cracked, uncut and yellow as he went to reach passed me, towards Shealyne. Shealyne's eyes widened at the shaking hand as she took a slight step back. Instinctively, I swiftly grabbed the offending man's wrist, feeling bone and thin flesh as the man's hand began to whiten. It was disgusting to make physical contact with the old man, even with my gloves on.

It was then that I saw it. That look in the old man's eyes as he bore into mine. It was the same darkness that was in my eyes. My hackles rose. This man-he wasn't normal, and he was targeting my Shealyne. Why? What did he want with her? I felt my anger rise, and my grip tightened on the man's wrist as his dead eyes looked upon me with silent anger. If this man so much as touched her, I would make him beg for death!

"Don't you dare touch her." I growled lowly, the man staring in that dead stare of his! Bastard! Oh, how I wished I would have plunged Shealyne's blade into his eye sockets and rip his damned dead eyes out! I longed to hear his screams as blood poured down his face, eyes ripped out for even looking upon her!

"Mathieu, let him go." Shealyne ordered gently, touching my shoulder as I glanced at her before regretfully breaking my grip. The old man's wrist was already bruising. Good.

My head suddenly snapped toward the ceiling as I heard the wood creek above us, Shealyne ignoring the noise as she eyed the man.

"Is there anyone else here?" I asked, the man smiling, though to me it appeared to be a smirk.

"My dogs. It's so nice to have visitors. It gets so lonely here." The man replied, Shealyne giving me an odd look.

"You lie." I stated, the man looking at me coldly.

"If you don't believe me go and look." The man growled lowly, my instincts screaming something was off. This bastard was shady. More so than I by far. What was he hiding?

Looking towards Shealyne, I felt uneasy about leaving her alone with this man. He may have been frail, but he was strange. I swear to Sithis, if he so much as touched her...

"Don't worry, Mathieu. I'll be fine." Shealyne replied, swiping a fly away as I looked at her before pressing the blade into her hand.

"I believe this is yours." I whispered, kissing her softly before moving passed the man. I could feel his eyes upon me as I made my way up the stairs, cursing as I nearly broke my ankle when a step broke.

* * *

I watched as Mathieu walked up the stairs, clenching my blade slightly. It was still warm from his hold.

I glanced at the man, but swiftly looked to anywhere but him. He was staring at me. Why was he staring? It was so unnerving. He wasn't a threat to me, even with the rather large cut on my side. How could an old man with a missing leg possibly harm me? Of course, there was the matter of the dead dogs. Poor things. I wonder if he ate them? Is he still staring? Damn, he is. What's his problem? Maybe he's just lonely? He did say that three times. Poor old, creepy man.

"How long have you...lived here?" I asked, hoping to break the awkwardness.

"Oh, years and years. Are you planning on staying long? I would really like to talk with you." I couldn't help but shudder at that comment. What's wrong with this guy? I didn't want to stay here. I would rather sleep outside than stay in this dump.

"I...don't know. As long as Mathieu wants, I guess." I replied, the man's creepy eyes narrowing upon hearing my response. I saw the look in his eyes when Mathieu stopped him from touching me. He looked evil. Like he wanted to hurt or kill Mathieu. It scared me.

"You and he are close." The man stated, and before I could open my mouth to speak, the old man spoke again.

"How long has he been humping you?"

My mouth dropped at that. What could I say? How could I respond? I wanted to speak, come up with something witty to say but I was just caught so off guard. Instead, my mouth opened and closed like a hapless fish. Who even asks that? Who?! That was none of his business! That old, sick, pervert! Ugh!

"E-Excuse me?!" I stammered, feeling myself pale as he looked at me, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to ask a person.

"Did you moan his name with every thrust? Allow him to fill you with his seed?" The man asked, once again in that innocent voice.

What the hell is wrong with him?! He's so vulgar! I just want to get out of here! I don't care if I die trying to get home, I don't want to stay here!

"You are being extremely rude!" I managed, fidgeting as I glanced at the stairwell, hoping Mathieu would come down any second.

"Would you like some water?" The man asked suddenly, looking at me. I was confused by the sudden change in topic, even though I was glad for it. What was he trying to do? I didn't trust him.

"I..." I started, but before I could answer the man had hobbled off into the back room, emerging with a kettle and cup. I watched him as he poured a brownish liquid into the cup, and could swear that I heard a plopping noise. It made my stomach lurch.

"Oh, no, no thank you. I'm not thirsty." I responded, but the man set down the kettle and held the cup out for me, his hands shaking.

Hesitantly, I took the cup from him and stared at the brownish water. It smelled horrible, and I looked at the man only to find him still watching me, as if waiting for me to drink it. I didn't want to, and I kept imagining that it would be poisonous. He kept staring, and even though he stopped asking such personal questions, his eyes unnerved me the most.

Seeking to ignore him, I turned to the cup. It looked like it was covered in dust and maybe some mold. I sniffed the water some more, and scrunched my nose. It smelled like mold.

I glanced at the man, and upon seeing his eyes on me, lowered my head so that my sore lips lightly touched the cold metal rim. I swear I could taste the mold. A horrible taste and smell. Holding my breath, I took a small sip of the water, and almost immediately spit the water out of my mouth and threw the mug away. The mug shattered on the ground, water and maggots scattering on the floor.

Maggots...it was filled with maggots! That was it! That-that was the plopping noise I heard!

Gagging, I tried in vain to get the taste out, and in disgust and terror, bolted passed the man down the hall. I found myself in the kitchen. And I couldn't believe at what I saw.

Blood. I saw blood everywhere. I saw flesh in mounds, in bowls and scattered among the counters, ripe with maggots. And I saw bones. Human bones. To my right, I saw a pot with boiling water, and something was in it that smelled terrible. How could we have not smelled it earlier? My eyes widened, as to my horror, a human head emerged from the boiling water, hair and flesh melted as one, and I saw teeth in the flesh mounds-places where they didn't seem to belong. The eye sockets-they scared me-unnerved me! Though I could see no eyes under the melted flesh...by Sithis...it appeared as if they were stabbed out by...by a knife or fork! The...the flesh...oh, no! I-I felt sick! I needed to get out of here-I needed to warn Mathieu!

In panic, I turned around only to meet the dead face of the man, his eyes cold. It was the last thing I remembered before hearing a loud pang, and feeling a sharp yet dull pain on my head before blacking out.

* * *

My head snapped as I heard a clang followed by a thud. My heart went cold and skipped a beat as I felt myself break into a cold sweat. I heard her scream-or try to call. Shealyne! Damn it! How stupid could I be to leave her alone with that bastard?!

"Shea?...Shealyne?" I called out, still partly numb in disbelief as I swiftly ran towards the stairs, cursing as I saw that old man at the bottom of the stairwell. I noticed that he was holding an ax. Shit.

Not willing to face a man with an axe when weaponless, I slammed the stairs door and swiftly kicked at the hinges, bending them so the man would have to bust through the door.

Looking around the rooms for a weapon, I found none, and could hear his damned metal leg drag and clank against the wood as he got closer and closer to the door. I could hear him mutter something, nonsense I guess. Still, it sounded like he was talking about eating something. This man was more messed up than me.

Moving toward the last room, I saw a window, surprisingly still in tact, and just outside it was the wooden frames of the future home. The room was completely bare with only dirt and cobwebs covering the area.

I quickly slammed the door closed, and seeing as this one had a handle, broke it. I could hear him break through the first door, and in a matter of seconds splinter the second door open with his axe. Damn these doors and their mold!

Seeing no weapon, I punched the window out, cutting myself in the process as I picked up a large shard, holding it like a blade. Maybe it would have been easier to jump out the window, but I wasn't going to flee. He did something to my Sister, and I wasn't about to abandon her. Heh. It looks like I would get to slit his throat after all.

* * *

**Isn't that old guy creepy? he was very creepy in my dream! Originally, this was going to be a one shot, but it was too long so I cut it in half. The next chapter will have extreme violence(thanks to Mathieu), and hinted rape. This is meant to be disturbing, and creepy, but I liked it cause it showed a story. Well, I hope you enjoyed and please review on any criticism or comments. **


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